


A Time to Dance

by MelyndaR



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Marriage of Convenience, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13894050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelyndaR/pseuds/MelyndaR
Summary: “You promised me that if you ever needed help, you would tell me, and with your husband presumed dead, I’m pretty sure that time is now.”“Help, yes, but…” Ana went from near frantic to very, painfully quiet in the space of a heartbeat – and her heart was practically racing at the moment. “Like this?”Jack tried to make his tone softer as he pointed out, “Your status here is shaky enough; if you don’t, you’ll be deported. Do you really want to go back to Hungary?”“No.” She inhaled, straightened her shoulders resolutely. “So… yes… I will marry you.”





	1. Chapter 1

_August 1, 1947_

Jack was pretty sure that, for the life of himself, he was never going to be able to figure out why exactly Mrs. Ana Jarvis of all people had gotten it in her head to become his self-appointed, semi-permanent hospital visitor. If he was her, and if he had just recently been let out of this place – instead of still currently recovering inside it – he wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere near this hospital.

But, then again, he had figured out pretty quickly that Mrs. Jarvis was a different sort of woman. Not bad at all, just… different.

She had, on her very first visit here, taken it upon herself to declare that he was to call her “Ana,” and she would be positively thrilled if he would agree to teach her how to play poker. Apparently, Mr. Jarvis didn’t like the idea of her knowing the game, and could Jack please keep this as a nice little secret between the two of them? Jack, having already been one-half bored out of his mind, and the other half _drugged_ out of his mind, had been more than happy to oblige.

He just hadn’t expected her to keep coming back. Or for her to be such a good poker-player. Or for her to be so kind and sweet and _funny_ and _quick-witted_ and caring and bright… and so _much._ She was so… almost larger than life, much more so than Jack had ever assumed “Mrs. Jarvis” would be. She was great fun, despite the fact that he was sure she couldn’t like the setting anymore than he did, and he found himself starting to look forward to her visits – and the crazy woman came every day, even if it was only for a few minutes.

Some days it seemed almost as if she could handle being here better than she could other days, which made sense – and confused Jack even more as to why she came in the first place. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask. She was talkative enough, and would, he assumed, share whatever was on her mind whenever she was ready to. In the mean time, they kept their conversation light and mostly focused on the learning-poker task at hand.

Two weeks in, two days before he was supposed to be released from the hospital, Jack was beginning to feel like he might’ve genuinely made a new friend out of this unexpected woman that he couldn’t quite figure out.

When Ana stepped into his hospital room that day, he got the feeling that today was going to be one of her shorter visits. The proof was in the way that she stayed standing instead of taking a seat beside his hospital bed, or even on the edge of the bed. It was in the way that she was wringing her hands even as she smiled – he didn’t think she realized she did that, wringing her hands, but it gave her agitation or nerves away a lot, especially when the gesture didn’t match the expression on her face. She was smiling, but she was wringing her hands, and there was tiredness in her eyes that he recognized like the back of his hand. He would’ve bet a month’s worth of salary then and there that she’d had nightmares last night.

He didn’t say that, but he didn’t reach for the deck of cards that they kept on his bedside table either. He wasn’t going to try and get her to stay long enough for a game given that she was already looking a little twitchy. Honestly, he wouldn’t put it past Jarvis to be waiting for her around the corner if he knew this was the sort of mood his wife was in.

“Hey, Red,” he greeted her a little too casually, too easily, hoping maybe he could coax a real smile from her.

He cared for his friends, despite occasional attempts to the contrary – and, in this case, Ana’s sometimes overwhelming personality – and the idea of her leaving here with that halfhearted smile as the best thing she could muster up seemed wrong somehow.

“Hello, Jack,” she nodded, stepping closer so that she could rest a hand against the footboard of his bed, subtly leaning against it. _Was she in some pain, too?_ “How are you doing today?”

“Good, actually. Doc told me I’ll be released in a couple of days at this rate.”

“You are better already?” Her smile widened, small but genuine now, at the thought.

“Ah,” he shrugged. “You know how it is. Now only _every other_ move hurts.”

Ana chuckled thinly, reminding him, “It’ll get even better, of course. Especially once you’re allowed to go do things again.”

“Right. I’m looking forward to that, at least.”

“You’ll be going back to your office in New York, then?”

“Not right away,” he replied, trying not to attempt getting a read on how she felt about the idea. “Doc says I’m not cleared to fly until the eighteenth, so you and the LA SSR are stuck with me for a little while longer.”

Her smile widened for a second in acknowledgement of his lightheartedness as she asked teasingly, “Then who’s going to finish teaching me poker once you’re gone?”

Jack snorted. “Ask Marge to teach you what she knows. She plays even dirtier than I do. She’ll take good care of you.”

Something flickered across Ana’s face and her expression became more solemn again as she asked, quietly perceptive herself, “Who’s going to take care of _you_?”

She definitely meant in more than playing card games. “I’ll be fine, Ana. That’s why they’re letting me out of here, right?”

Ana shifted, leaning her weight even more onto her hands as she gripped the metal footboard, and Jack suddenly saw that the look in her eyes wasn’t just pain. It was worry – and determination. She was going to take none of his avoidance tactics and half-answers, was she? “Just because your scar heals,” she began softly, and as she studied him seriously from beneath her eyelashes, Jack got the feeling that they were heading into until-now forbidden territory. “Doesn’t mean that your scars heal – do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Jack scoffed. “I understand.” Better than she could probably ever guess.

“I want you to know that you can talk to me if you need to talk to someone. If you need anything, really, I will do everything I can. I know…” She blew out a breath, their similar experiences hanging in the air between them as she finished, “I know. But I want you to know that I care about what you’re going through, and if you need someone to be there in any way, I will if I can. You have to promise me you’ll accept the help if you need it, though.”

Well then. It would appear he wasn’t the only one who made a habit of studying people.

What the heck was he supposed to do with that? She was too genuinely good for this world, he’d thought before, and she was definitely going to get herself hurt because of it one of these days. But that didn’t mean that he wanted to talk about any of this.

He eased up a little straighter in the bed, trying not to hiss at the way his shoulder twinged. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll promise to let people help me if I need it.” Anything to end this conversation as quickly as possible; besides, it was null and void if he never let on that he needed the help – and he wouldn’t. At the last second, he impulsively raised an eyebrow and added, “As long as you’ll promise the same thing.”

She moved around the end of the bed, looking far too pleased with herself, and stuck out her hand. “It’s a deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

_August 2, 1947_

When she’d first walked into his hospital room that morning, Jack had expected another short visit with Ana. She’d looked even more worried than she had the day before, and he nearly doubted that she’d slept at all the night before. It wasn’t pain troubling her at the moment, it was something else.

But they had an unspoken “don’t ask” policy, right? Or was that just in his head? In any case, he was starting to wonder if she had come here today to get her mind off of whatever else was going on in her life.

At least, that appeared to be the case as, three hours in, she gathered a large pile of M&Ms closer to her – their “poker chips” for the day. She was _murdering_ him, and if he hadn’t been half concerned and still a little drugged, he might have thought it amusing. As it was, he was curious as to why _she_ didn’t even seem to be enjoying her success today, on this, his last full day in the hospital.

“I hate you,” he declared dryly, hoping for an equally dry smile from her at least.

No such luck as she looked over at him a little dazedly and asked, “Now what?”

She hadn’t even been paying attention, had she? “Now nothing,” he scoffed, gesturing towards her pile of candy. “You won everything!”

There was that false smile from her again as she started to split the M&Ms up again. “Well, we can just start again, then.”

“Why don’t we talk?” he blurted impulsively.

She froze for a second, then narrowed her bright eyes at him, pointing out, “That’s usually my line.”

And it very rarely worked.

“Yeah, well,” he shifted on the bed, already regretting opening his mouth. “You promised me yesterday that you’d let people help you if you need it.”

She looked at him in confusion. “I do not need help – unless I broke a rule in the game, perhaps?”

“No,” Jack shook his head, saying hesitantly, “You just seem a little off today. Are you…” Yeah, he was going to regret this, wasn’t he? “Sure you’re okay?”

Ana stared at him in surprise for a beat, and then lowered her eyes to sigh heavily, popping an M&M into her mouth and chewing it – buying time – before she answered simply, “I am only worried.” She shrugged dismissively, adding, “But I always worry.”

He honestly wouldn’t have guessed that about her. But he couldn’t say it came as a surprise that he had to pry something negative from her, if he was going to get it at all. Maybe it was none of his business anyway. “Do I want to know what you’re worried about?” he asked hesitantly.

“Mm,” she tucked a second M&M into her cheek and spoke around it – without the game to concentrate on, was she stress-eating, he wondered –“A Colonel Phillips is at the house today with Miss Carter, Mr. Stark, and Mr. Jarvis. Colonel Phillips and Mr. Stark have a job that they believe they may want Edwin to do.”

“What kind of ‘job?’”

She shrugged – and started wringing her hands as she spoke. “Mr. Stark and the colonel are convinced that they have found Captain Rogers.”

“As in Captain America? Really?!” Jack’s eyebrows flew upwards.

She nodded, and then continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “They may want Edwin to fly over Siberia – to do reconnaissance, or perhaps even retrieve the captain if he somehow thinks he can.”

“And you’re…” he took a shot in the dark from what he knew of Jarvis. “Afraid that he’ll think he can retrieve Rogers – assuming he’s miraculously there in the first place – and get himself in over his head?”

She chuckled without an ounce of humor in her voice, saying lightly, “There’s that too, yes.”

“That’s the absolute worst case scenario, you know.” _Well, unless Jarvis went in and Rogers wasn’t even there._ Even he wasn’t clueless enough to say that aloud. “But… as for his flying, if it’s recon, it’s recon. Getting out of the plane does not have to be a part of the mission, and if he’s smart, he’ll remember that. It sounds to me like you’re looking at…probably one day to fly to Siberia, one day of recon, and one day to fly home – to you. No bumps, no scrapes, just… sitting behind the controls. I’ve seen him fly, Ana; he’s good, and he’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but…” her voice dropped as she murmured, “What if he’s not?”

Jack shrugged, defaulting to the much more familiar turf of sarcasm. “Then you get to sit pretty by Stark’s pool and drink whiskey while playing poker in the open? And, at this rate, playing Stark out of every red cent he has.”

“I’m afraid that’s not how it would work,” she replied with another thin, false smile.

He swore he could remember her _really_ laughing in this room with him once upon a time. “Why not?”

She looked at him skeptically and he could see her deciding whether or not to tell him. Apparently she decided in favor after a second as she answered, “My… immigration status, I think it is called, has always been a bit… complicated. Time was of the essence when Edwin and I moved to America, and the quickest way Mr. Stark was able to set it up at the very beginning was through an allowance of sorts. I could remain in the States because I am Edwin’s wife, and he is a resident of America.”

“It wasn’t difficult for his citizenship to transfer?”

She smiled thinly again, pointing out simply, “He is not Jewish… or he did not identify as one at the time.”

“Oh,” he muttered, feeling a little stupid for bringing it up.

She smiled casually, shrugging as she finished, “As long as I am married, I will be able to stay in America too.” Her smile all but melted off of her face. “If Edwin dies… that is when I must return to Hungary.”

“Is that a good idea for you?”

Ana looked down at her twisting hands, remarking – and also sidestepping the question – “There is nothing left for me there. Here, I have friends, and Edwin.”

Waiting until he had steady eye contact with her, he said firmly, “And you will still have him even if he goes on this mission for Phillips and Carter. It’s not a suicide mission. He has way too much to live for to die.”

She smiled, and he couldn’t really tell if this one was genuine or not, as she repeated, “I’m sure you’re right. Now,” she took a deep breath and straightened up, splitting up the candy again, and Jack recognized the end of the conversation for what it was. “Let’s play again.”


End file.
